Last Days
by yan6
Summary: The Joestar Family has a greater connection than typical families and those differences come to light a lot more when the world is ending
1. Chapter 1

Joseph sipped his tea slowly.

The cup rattled in his aged hands, the liquid splashing over the side of the lip and onto the wobbling platter. The drops that made it into his mouth were already cold and the taste was unforgivably bitter, making the old man frown and set the cup back on its tray.

He never could make the tea the same as Suzie Q's.

He looked to the picture of his late wife. She was as beautiful as the day he met her in Italy, her once gold hair a brilliant silver in the photograph.

Joseph sighed tiredly.

He had lived a long life - 92 years seemed like forever and it amazed him to think that he had once imagined that he would not live to see another day. The fighting and the turmoil - the countless friends he lost.

Caesar.

Even after all these years, it still hurt.

There was no one left from that time. No handsome friend, no youthful mother, no beautiful wife. He had outlived everyone despite the fact that he probably should have been the first.

Joseph sighed again.

He set the tea down as carefully as he could on a side table before standing up on old legs that creaked and groaned at him.

If Caesar could see him now!

How he would have made fun of him, laughing at the weakened and wrinkled state the once proud Joestar now was.

He bent as much as he could in his already hunched state to pick the platter back up and shuffled into the kitchen, the gentle rattling of the cup sounding out in the cold and crowded apartment. The walls were covered in pictures from his boyhood up to his recent expedition to Japan as well as various trinkets he had picked up on his adventures. They felt familiar but had long since lost their warmth after Suzie Q's death.

The shattering of the porcelain cup against the hardwood floor rang out, the pieces scattering in various directions as the cold liquid soaked into soft slippers outside the attention of the shoes owner. The breaking cup and wet shoes were paid no care as Joseph clutched at his chest fruitlessly as a sharp sting stabbed at him.

He would have been concerned about heart troubles, and in fact gave the idea a fleeting thought before tossing it out, but he could remember this feeling happening before. Or at least his body was telling him that this wasn't the first time that it had felt this.

The probing throb that felt like something he hadn't even been aware existed there in the first place had been ripped free. His blood heated and swirled in his veins - blood exchanged from a long dead man.

Joseph had never cursed having Dio's recycled blood flowing through him. It was his in the first place, as well as that of his grandfather, and it had kept him thriving long after he should have been dead.

But this feeling, the ache in his chest, was concerning and the old man couldn't shake the thought that vampire had something to do with it.

He felt faint suddenly and tilted, barely catching himself on one of the small kitchen table's chairs. He clutched at his chest, the vague pangs already subsiding, leaving only the phantom pains of a throb that suddenly fled.

The clatter drew the attention of his live-in attendant who rushed into the kitchen, a half-folded shirt clutched in one of his hands.

"Mr. Joestar are you okay?" The attendant's hands rested gently on Joseph's back, his gaze roaming over the broken porcelain before returning back to the old man. "Does your chest hurt? Hold on, I'll call your physician-"

"No, no, I'm fine." Joseph drawled, his hand falling away from his chest as he motioned flippantly to show that there was no cause for worry. "I just startled myself..."

Joseph trailed off, his eyes staring blankly forward before turning to his attendant.

"Actually, could you call the Speedwagon Foundation?"

The attendant watched Joseph warily as the old man went back to rubbing at his chest, but he nodded and left the room to grab a phone anyways.

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!"

Joseph turned to look at his youngest child as she came barreling into the room.

Shizuka had been an interesting girl to raise - a much different experience for Joseph than Holly had been, both because of Suzie Q's initial distrust at her parentage and her invisibility.

Suzie Q had gotten over her suspicion and helped raise the Japanese girl with the same love she had raised her own daughter, but Suzie Q and Joseph had been much older and Suzie Q hadn't lived to see the baby's 3rd birthday.

Being an invisible child had had its own problems, one of which being education, the other her ability to get lost. Joseph had a lot of trouble with her, especially since his wife had passed and he himself was old and forgetful.

The Speedwagon Foundation helped tremendously in both these problems.

A live in attendant, called Gerald on the Foundation forms, for both Joseph and Shizuka was provided by the Foundation to assist in household affairs as well as childcare.

When she reached the age of 6, Shizuka was admitted into a specialty school run by the Foundation for children with awakened Stand abilities. They helped her learn to control her powers as well as teach her general education.

Shizuka currently was capable of appearing visibly for a couple of hours at a time, but the 13 year old was still most comfortable with a layer of foundation and sunglasses to get her through the day. Joseph was trying to ween her off of it, but in true Joestar fashion, she was hardheaded.

"Daddy, look what the professor wrote!" Shizuka crashed into his legs, the chair keeping him from joining his cup on the floor. "He said I was exceptional!"

Joseph patted her head and shuffled around to get the chair pulled out, falling into it with a groan and pulling his youngest closer by her waist to see the sheet of paper she held out for him.

"Ooh," Joseph glanced over the page. In neat script, the professor had noted at the top of Shizuka's paper how advanced her writing was and Joseph jostled her gently and gave the girl an approving smile. "That's great, Shizuka!"

The young girl hummed in reply, her eyes landing on the mess on the floor.

She looked questionly at her father who reached to rub his chest again as he read over her creative writing assignment.

"Mr. Joestar, the Speedwagon Foundation." The family attendant held a phone in his outstretched hand.

"Ah, good," Joseph took the phone, his hand falling from its hold on his daughter. He fumbled with the phone briefly before finally placing it correctly against his ear and mouth, drawling out a hello into the receiver.

"Shizuka, come on, we'll get you changed out of your uniform and organize your homework." Shizuka groaned and leaned away from her perched position on her father's knee, dragging her feet to the attendant's side.

"What about the mess?" The girl motioned to the shattered platter and cup as she smoothed her school skirt. "Daddy will forget and slip in it."

The attendant motioned her out of the kitchen and led her down the hall to her room, opening the door and pointing to her bed where he had laid out her play clothes.

"Change into that while I clean it up."

Shizuka frowned as the attendant closed the door, worrying at the edges of her paper before dropping her school bag on the floor and changing into her after school clothing.

When she was finished, the girl dumped her bag contents into the bed and kicked her school uniform to the side so she wouldn't trip over it.

Gerald had tried to instruct her to fold the uniform after taking it off, but she didn't see much point in it when he was just going to have to unfold it to clean and iron it.

Shizuka rifled through her school work, sorting it out as the family attendant had taught her when she was interrupted by the sound of her father's and Gerald's raised voices.

She stared at the door unsurely, the arguing escalating until it abruptly cut off. Shizuka continued standing in her room, waiting for either man to come get her.

As she expected, Gerald opened the door suddenly, walking in with a sour expression and furrowed brow.

The girl tilted her head in askance at the man who pulled up short when he saw her.

"Sorry, it's a family issue."

Shizuka waited.

The attendant didn't seem to notice and instead crossed to her bed, shuffling through the papers.

"Am I not a part of the family?"

The question seemed to startle the man, who dropped the handful of papers back onto the covers.

"What?"

"Well, you said it was 'family matters,' which I can assume means the Joestar family." Shizuka waited a beat before continuing. "The family that I am a part of."

Gerald looked away uncomfortably. His feet shifting and his fingers rubbing at the recovered pages.

"Yes, of course you are, Miss Shizuka," Shizuka frowned at the title, something the attendant only uses for her when he was mentioning or discussing something he was unsure of. "But it's a matter that you don't need to concern yourself with."

Shizuka looks blankly back at him.

"Because you're too young."

She knew he was lying.


	2. Chapter 2

Balancing planks of wood on his shoulder, Josuke shifted to reach down with one hand and adjust the top of his jumpsuit from slipping off its tied position around his waist.

Josuke let the stacks of wood clatter to the ground in their respected pile.

Letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, Josuke turned to look back at the construction site.

"Hey, Okuyasu, do you think it's about time to call it a day?"

"Hm?" Okuyasu's head popped up from behind a large stack of planks, a hammer raised in one hand as he swiveled around to find Josuke. "Ah, yeah, I think it's about time!"

Okuyasu let the hammer clatter to the floor and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and popping his back.

"I think we're getting too old for this, Josuke. My arms feel like they're gonna fall off." Okuyasu rolled his arm pointedly, gripping his sore shoulder, as he ambled over to Josuke.

"Really? I feel like that's all the more reason to be doing this!" He reached out and tapped Okuyasu's ribs with his knuckles, the other man groaning and bending out of reach, clutching his torso protectively.

Josuke laughed at the glare thrown his way and they both wandered off to find the construction leader.

"Hey, boss-man!"

The man in question's hackles rose visibly as he turned away from watching a couple of workers lift a metal beam with a crane. He sighed unhappily as the two men strolled over.

"We finished for today!" Josuke gave a sunny smile as he wrapped one of his arms around Okuyasu's neck. "What's our pay looking like now?"

"You'll get your money the same time as everyone else, Mr. Higashikata, Mr. Nijimura." The older man tapped his pen against his clipboard as he looked at the two thoughtfully. "Don't you think that you're getting too old to be working construction? It's not like you two don't have regular jobs and this is more a gig for twenty-something year olds."

Josuke frowned, his lips pursing and brow creasing.

"We are twenty-something year olds."

The other man sighed.

"Twenty-nine is pushing it don't you think?"

Josuke and Okuyasu looked at each other before bursting out laughing.

"He's got you there, Josuke!"

"He really does!"

The two continued guffawing as they turned away, waving over their shoulder.

"We'll come an pick up the money next Wednesday, yeah? See you then!"

They walked down the street back to their apartment pushing each other playfully as they started an impromptu game of tag-and-noogie.

Josuke laughed at an impression of the gruff combini worker that Okuyasu gave as he unlocked the door to their apartment. The key slipped against the lock and Josuke's laugh trailed off. He held the key against the handle but made no attempt to fit it back in as he rubbed at his chest.

There had been a sudden stab on the left side and a cold, empty feeling swarmed languidly in the hole left behind.

Josuke turned suddenly to look behind him, worried about an enemy stand attack.

No one was behind him, however, and there wasn't any pain in his back, just the strange pooling in the center of himself that was slowly dimming in strength.

"Josuke?" Okuyasu put his hand worriedly on Josuke's shoulder as he, too, scanned around them. "Did something happen?"

Josuke hummed uncertainly in reply before distractedly unlocking the door.

"It's nothing, I think I..." Josuke trailed off. "I just...'unno. It's nothing."

Both walked into their apartment and kicked off their work boots, the dust and dirt falling off and giving the floor a thin layer of grey blur.

"You wanna...?" Okuyasu gestured towards the bathroom instead of finishing his sentence, and Josuke shook his head in reply.

"Naw, you go first."

Okuyasu nodded and headed towards their bathroom, peeling off his shirt before he made it inside.

Josuke sighed, frowning, as he continued to rub at his chest. The feeling subsided for the most part, but left a cold burn behind. He flopped down on the living room couch, ignoring the grime covering his clothes from work as he settled in.

He stared blankly at the ceiling while listening to the faint sound of water splattering, the room seeming dark and chilly without his roommate. Josuke tilted his head, glancing at the T.V. from the corner of his eye and trying to decide if he wanted to turn on the system to play a game by himself or just wait for Okuyasu to get out of the shower so he could take his place.

Josuke still hadn't decided when his cell went off, the muffled chiming noise chirping along with the vibrations buzzing in his pocket.

He wiggled his hand underneath himself to get to his phone, struggling in his sitting position and cursing tight pockets even if they kept his belongings securely where they should be when he was on the move.

When the cellphone was finally free, Josuke was quick to flip it open, not bothering to check who it was.

"Yeah?"

"Josuke? Is that you?"

Josuke was taken aback at the older women's voice, having expected Koichi or even Yukako.

"Holly?"

"Oh thank goodness!" The sudden language shift to English reminded Josuke of their father and he frowned worriedly as he wondered why his sister was calling, hoping it wasn't bad news.

"Did something happen to the old man?" He winced as the words left his mouth, knowing that if there was something wrong with their father, he would just be making the 70-year old woman further distressed.

"Oh, um, I don't think so?" The question seemed to take Holly off-guard and Josuke could hear her shuffling through the speaker. "Oh dear, do you think that was what that was?"

"What what was?"

Holly stayed quiet for a while, the silence drawing out long enough to make Josuke fidget.

"Didn't you feel it?" She finally began. "I thought something had happened to you because you're the closest, but I'm not entirely sure how distance affects it...I wonder if I should call father...?"

Josuke's brow furrowed in confusion and he pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it as if doing so would explain what the old woman was talking about.

"Hey, old lady, you're not making any sense at all."

"Oh!" Josuke could hear her shuffling again as if she was carrying something in her hands. "I thought you would have known? Didn't you meet both father and Jotaro because of something concerning Dio and Stands? - Oh, I already had a carton of milk - I had assumed you knew."

Josuke frowned at the nonsense words, wondering if the woman was suffering from the same dementia their father had.

"What are you doing?"

"Hm? I'm putting away the groceries - are you eating well? I was thinking I should come visit. Are still living with that Nijimura boy?"

"Hold on, Holly, go back." Josuke waved his hand in front of his face as if clearing the air of the unnecessary conversation. "What about Dio and Stands?"

Holly hummed lowly and the sounds of her moving came slower.

"Did you feel a pain in your chest?"

Josuke was taken aback again. He shifted agitatedly on the couch and pressed the phone harder against his ear.

"I mean, yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

The sounds on the other end stopped entirely and Holly let out a tired sigh.

"I guess I shouldn't have expected them to try and explain anything - neither of them are ones to take time and ensure other people are on the same page they are."

Josuke kicked his heel against the ground in annoyance but held his tongue, hoping the old lady would continue explaining quickly.

"What you felt wasn't really pain, it was you noticing that a connection was lost."

"Okay, so I'm not following." Josuke chewed on the side of his tongue, eyeing the ceiling as his brows furrowed. "Did a satellite go out?"

Holly made an amused humming sound, the phone rattling as she sat down.

"No, someone in our family died."

"What-"

"You know, I really should have checked on father first, but I wanted to make sure my baby brother was okay! I love Dad, but it'd be worse if someone so young died. Plus, I got to help explain a little!" Holly let out a resounding laugh. "I'll call again later, but I need to do the rounds to find out who we're missing."

The flat dial tone stabbed at Josuke's ear.


	3. Chapter 3

Giorno stared the balding man down.

His lips were carefully poised in a small, graceful smile befitting the face of any Renaissance painting as his gold braid laid primly over one shoulder, head tilted in what appeared to be innocent curiosity to anyone outside the conversation.

"Can you not agree to these terms, Signor D'Alessandro?" Giorno finally asked after Angelo had turned his gaze away. Perspiration bedded on his brow and Angelo dabbed at the moisture with an already stained cloth, fiddling with it to distract his sweating palms as he avoided eye contact with the Don.

"Don Giovanna, I-" Angelo shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. The looming presences on either side of the young boss felt unnaturally stifling, like they stood right in front of Angelo instead of separated by a desk. He licked his lips as a small rodent would when faced with predators much larger than itself. "I will see what I can do."

The smile dropped off of Giorno's face.

The action seemed to automatically spur his two guards into agitation, as they both shifted, hands going for pockets or reaching out to brush against Giorno.

"That's not good enough, Signor D'Alessandro. I need your guarantee." Giorno crossed his legs the other way, leaning forward with one elbow on the desk, his fair cheek pressed against his relaxed hand. "Your promise with proper insurance is the only option here."

"Insurance?"

"I think your youngest son will do well." Giorno signed the piece of paper in front of him with a flourish and pushed it towards the other man whose face had gone an ashen green.

"My son?" Angelo's lip trembled around the words, the hand that raised to wipe his face shook so hard he missed and ran the napkin through his hair on the first attempt. "Mirko?"

"Yes, Signor, we'll possess your son until Signor Ornaghi is successfully Minister of the Interior." Giorno stood up and rounded the desk, half sitting on the edge in front of the man. Both of his guards stood still but watched Angelo with sharp eyes that dared him to so much as twitch in the wrong way. "Don't worry, we've already taken the initiative and had Mirko placed in our care."

Angelo started, his mouth flapping open as he looked desperately from the Don to Giorno's subordinates as if he was searching for some way to reverse the younger man's words.

"I wish I didn't have to do this, Signor D'Alessandro, but there have been rumors floating around that you were leaning towards the Comaco Family's choice. Just rumors, of course, I know you wouldn't betray me after promising your loyalty. Right, Signor D'Alessandro?" Giorno held the pen in his hand out towards the quivering man. Angelo hesitated briefly, his eyes flickering up to the twenty-seven year old's face as he felt the deep-seated regret of his greed in seeing the Comaco's despite his agreement with the Passione Family, before he reached out and grabbed the pen. Instead of letting go, Giorno held on and yanked the older man closer to him, staring down at Angelo with hard eyes. "Don't worry, the next time you make this mistake, it will only be your head that rolls."

Giorno held on a second longer before dropping his hand and leaning back against the desk.

Angelo was quick to sign his name on the agreement.

With the last stroke of his name, the Don in front of him suddenly jolted, his hand flying up to his chest spurring both of his guards to pull out their guns and train them on Angelo, the click of the safety and hammer loud enough to turn the man's blood cold.

Angelo dropped the pen, his hands raising up in a clear sign of defenselessness.

Giorno stared at him with cold eyes and the room seemed to ice over as the three stood imposingly in front of the trembling man, everyone seeming to hold their breath as if waiting for something to occur.

Like a balloon popping, the tension in the air suddenly dispersed. The three Passione members relaxed, their eyes finding each other and communicating some unspoken message.

"Remember what's at stake here, Signor D'Alessandro." The Don finally stated, a clear dismissal in his voice.

Angelo was quick to jump up, the chair thudding against the plush carpeted floor. He backed out of the room, his head bowed as sweat dripped off his forehead.

"O-of course, Don Giovanna, I'll make sure to follow your suggestion."

The gang waited for the door to close and the hurried footsteps to fade into the distance before fully relaxing.

"Suggestion? I hate formal speak." Mista grumbled, using the barrel of his gun to scratch under his hat. "Why can't you just say what you mean?"

"Are you alright, Giorno?" Trish sidled up to the man, her hand touching his shoulder gently. Mista stood at attention, moving around the other side of the desk to take up his Don's other side, gripping his arm in his hand. "Your chest hurts? Do you want me to contact our physician?"

"Yes, that's probably for the best." Giorno leaned more fully against the desk, sitting on top of it as he continued to rub the center of his chest.

Trish pulled away, reaching for the phone and their contact book before punching in the number for Passione's regular physician, Dr. Cracchiolo. The phone trilled for a few seconds before a woman picked up.

" _Can I help you?"_

Trish's brows pulled together and she switched the phone to her other ear.

"Is Dr. Cracchiolo there?"

The line went silent for a couple of beats before the woman's cheerful voice rang out.

" _No, he's out of town at the moment and I'm his temporary replacement. Do you need my help with anything?"_

Mista and Giorno both turned to look at Trish at the woman's words. Trish raised her brows at Giorno in askance before handing the phone over to the Don.

"Dr. Cracchilol would have informed me before leaving."

" _Yes, but it was such short notice, he didn't have the time-"_

"I don't believe you." Giorno's words were sharp and precise, making the woman on the other end go silent. There was clear shuffling on the other end then the tap-tap of computer keys before the woman cleared her throat.

" _Is this Haruno Shiobana?"_ Her cheerful voice had dropped into a deeper tone, full of conviction as if the question was an accusation.

If she had anything further to say, none of them heard it because Giorno slammed the phone back into its receiver. Both Mista and Trish jumped at the sudden noise, but Giorno just stared down at the phone with an unreadable expression.

After a second, Giorno jumped off the desk and walked robotically to the door, turning but not looking over his shoulder before he walked through and saying stiffly,

"Find a new doctor."

Neither Trish nor Mista brought the incident back up.

Despite their careful avoidance of the subject, Giorno grew twitchy and paranoid. He didn't let anyone else pick up the phones and tripled security checks on both new and old staff the next day.

It wasn't until a sgarrista came in carrying a cellphone and a confused expression saying a caller was looking for Haruno Shiobana and Giorno responded by taking the phone and crushing it beneath his expensive heels that Mista and Trish shared a real look of concern.

"Demote him until he's been properly investigated." The sgarrista's caporegime nodded quickly, pulling the shocked man away by the arm.

Giorno waited until the two were out the door before sending Gold Experience to turn the phone into a rat that scurried away.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed tiredly, his eyes closing.

Trish caught Mista's eyes and nodded toward their Don.

Mista hesitated briefly before leaning down to the sitting man's level.

"Giorno, is everything okay?"

The Don didn't respond immediately, instead just continued to sit in his chair as the question hung in the air.

When the younger man finally turned to look at Mista, he stared at him with eyes that even after all the years they had worked together, Mista could still not fully understand.

"You are my family. Passione is the only family I need."

It was later that day, during a meeting that everything turned on its head.

Despite his paranoia, Giorno did not opt out of the scheduled meeting with the other family bosses.

If Mista hadn't known any better, he would have thought nothing was wrong, as Giorno displayed his usual cool and collected persona. He handled the other bosses smoothly and effortlessly, controlling the weaker ones and dancing around the manipulations of the stronger ones.

It was supposed to be a meeting among equals, but Mista was sure everyone knew who the real boss was.

It started with an uproar on the other side of the door. The sounds of gunfire and shouts, followed by a silence that chilled the occupants of the room.

When the door was opened – it wasn't thrown or forced, but held open by a armored man, allowing an older woman to walk inside.

The other personal guards allowed into the room had their guns trained and ready, but no one made a move as the elder lady walked in, fixing her leather gloves as if she wasn't targeted by at least 15 guards.

Her gaze swept around the room before stopping at the end of the table, where Giorno had risen to his feet.

"Haruno Shiobana," Giorno made no move, not even a twitch on his face as he stared the woman down with eyes as equally cold as her own. "Your brother is dead, stop ignoring our phone calls."


End file.
